


One Way Out

by Idontwritefanficx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:33:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4095937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idontwritefanficx/pseuds/Idontwritefanficx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are we robbing the same house?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Way Out

The clocks in the city ticked past ten at night and the darkness of one particular suburban street was only broken by the yellow streetlights that dripped light down to the pavements below like melting suns. These flickering suns may have provided light on the streets, but they brought no heat. The roads were covered in an icy sludge, the lakes frozen, and the city covered in a wet blanket of snow.

 

As a native of Chicago who had been living there for all nineteen years of his miserable life, you would think that Mickey Milkovich, all round tough guy and thug extraordinaire, would be used to the cold. But nope, he here was, knives in his pockets and tattoos on his fingers, decked out in a fluffy hat, a padded coat, and, worst of all, actual _mittens._ He swore they were to stop his fingerprints from showing up at a crime scene, but at this stage in the night Mickey didn't even care what he looked like: he was just grateful to be warm.

 

Mickey crept gingerly down the icy street, figuring falling and breaking his ass was a generally bad idea. He was in a neighbourhood he didn't belong, somewhere just on the edge of Northside. He thought he could probably fit his house into any of these at least three times. These were probably those crazy houses that had three fucking bathrooms. Who the fuck needs three bathrooms?

 

He had scoped out one house on the street a few times now, gathering information on the comings and goings of the residents. He had their timetables down perfectly, and he knew for a fact that every Friday the parents went out for dinner and drinks, and their teenage daughter went out with her friends until early Saturday morning. It was late enough at night that all the boring white bread neighbours had retired to bed, and the slightly more adventurous neighbours had already left for a night on the town. Mickey had the perfect opportunity to get in, steal some expensive shit, and get out.

 

Mickey was, to put it simply, a thief. Growing up in the house he did meant that he was used to seeing scams and plans, and thanks to Iggy and Tony, young Mickey also learned very quickly what  _not_ to do when attempting to pull off a successful scam. 

 

Over years of submitting ideas and advice to his older brothers, Terry finally began to take notice. It had been clear for some time that Mickey was smarter than the average Milkovich, and Terry started urging Mickey to participate in his own scams. At the time, Mickey's sole purpose in life was irritating Kash, the douchey owner of the corner store. However, after Terry's first words to Mickey about pursuing a life in the prosperous field of crime, instead of just insulting and terrorizing Kash, Mickey started stealing from him.

 

He started out slowly, testing the proverbial waters, as it were, simply pickpocketing chewing gum and packets of cigarettes. He may have only been twelve at the time, but Mickey, like most Southside kids his age, could smoke a pack a day. Mickey swore Terry gave him his first cigarette when he came home from his first day of kindergarten.

 

Pickpocketing was easy. He knew Kash knew Mickey was stealing from him, but despite being twenty years older than the boy, Kash was terrified of Mickey, and even more so of his father. It was widely known that Terry Milkovich hated Muslims, gays, and pussys, and it was just Kash's luck that he was all three.

 

Eventually Mickey felt confident enough not to just pocket something small and run out of the store with only a hiss in Kash's direction. By the time he was fourteen, he would just walk into the shop, grab a can of barbecue pringles and eat his way through them while perusing up and down the aisle for anything else he wanted. Plus, he got to watch Kash cower at the site of him, so that along with all the food he could eat, was like dinner and a movie. It was a glorious time in Mickey's life. He was never hungry, Terry was out of the house more than he was in, and Mickey had very little to worry about in life. 

 

Except for the fact that he was slowly realizing he was gay. That was a bit of downer.

 

Years passed, as they tend to, and Mickey had changed much at all. He wasn't much taller than he had been at fourteen, he wasn't much cleaner, and he wasn't much nicer. The only thing that change were the way people looked at him. Old ladies and mothers used to look at him with pity and sadness: he was a child in a bad home because he had no other choice but to be, with nothing to hope for out of life. But now, all Mickey got were looks of disgust and fear: he was a grimy teenager who was in a bad home because he chose to be, with nothing to hope for out of life because he had nothing to offer the world.

 

Nothing was ever offered to him. Not since he could remember. Which is why he couldn't wait for what he wanted to be given to him. He had to take it.

 

Once Mickey realized he was destined for bigger and better things, he abandoned the Kash and Grab and just started robbing houses. He would stake out the house for a week or so, break in, grab some expensive shit, and run. Most of the time he had his brothers helping, or at least someone to drive the van. Not tonight though. Tonight Mickey was on his own.

 

Mickey crept his way around the house, trying all the windows. They were all locked and he cursed under his breath. He tested the back door just in case, but it was locked too. There was a large tree with a branch that leaned against the wall of the house quite close to a window on the second floor, but there was no fucking way Mickey was going to attempt climbing it. He barely had the co-ordination to get down the icy street in one piece, he wasn't going to jump from the tree through an open window, if it was even unlocked. He huffed angrily, annoyed that he had wasted all this time planning and he was stumped by some locked windows. He didn't know if the house had any sort of security system, but he knew that a smashed window would definitely alert the neighbours.

 

He stomped his way back towards the front of the house. Across the street, a lady walked out of her own house, got in her car, and drove away. She hadn't seen Mickey so he started walking again. Then he stopped.

 

She hadn't locked her door.

 

He could see movement in the windows of her house, though, so he didn't think about robbing her, but was it too much to hope that his original plan could still be pulled off? He turned and made his way to the front door of the house he had been scoping all week. Up the steps. Fingers on the door handle. Push down.

 

The door swung open.

 

Mickey couldn't believe his luck. He strode into the house and closed the door behind him. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. He would never understand rich people: if you have shit worth stealing, why not protect it? The inside of the house was exactly as he expected it to be: spacious, well furnished, clean. Everything here was worth stealing, but Mickey needed things he could carry in a backpack: jewellery, cash, phones...

 

Over the next half an hour he made his way through the downstairs of the house, his bag filling up with ornaments and his stomach filling up with food he found in the kitchen. Deeming the ground floor covered, he made his way upstairs and started rooting through drawers and shelves thoroughly for anything of value. He found a wad of cash in the girls room, and also a decent supply of pot that put straight in his pockets. He smirked and started moving on to the next room when he heard a window slide open somewhere quite close.

 

Mickey's heart dropped out of his chest as he realized the noises were coming from a room at the end of the hall. His brain told him that was the side of the house with the tree leaning quite close to the window. _Oh shit._ Was someone else trying to break in? Mickey crept up the hall until he was just outside the room. A loud bang indicated that whoever was out there had fallen right in the window onto the floor beneath. Mickey had to give him credit for the attempt: what kind of idiot climbs a tree and jumps through a window on the second floor? Mickey pulled a knife out of his pocket and stepped in to confront the intruder.

 

\--

 

Ian knew he should have waited for next week when Lip was back in town. The brothers were partners in crime, a perfect double act. They could have whole conversations with just a tilt of the head. Being born less than a year apart and growing up in close quarters meant that despite the differences in their personalities, the boys were nearly telepathic with each other. Telepathetic, as Lip had once joked. He was away at college now and they always did their scams together, but Fiona needed money for the rent by tomorrow, so Ian had no other choice. He got the L, making his way to Northside.

 

He picked a neighbourhood that was rich, but not rich enough to bother with security systems or house alarms. He chose a house that was clearly empty and tried all the windows on ground level, but they were all locked. Now, he could just try a different house, but if he perched just right on the tree above his head, he could reach over and try a window on the second floor. Who would lock a window on the second floor?

 

Ian looked the tree up and down, trying to judging the easiest way up it.

 

There was no easy way.

 

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed and pulled his way up the trunk, fingernails digging painfully into the rough wood. Thank God for ROTC, otherwise there was no way he could have made his way up. His legs were wrapped around the tree, his chest and face pressed up close. He knew he must have looked a sight, barely two metres off the ground and hugging the tree like his life depended on it. Ian cursed his life and continued. He squirmed and wriggling, somehow lifting himself up just a little more each time. His chest rubbed against the bark of the tree, scraping his skin painfully.

 

By the time he reached the desired branch of the tree, Ian was panting and his fingers were bloody. He blinked tears from his eyes and tried to calm himself down. He had a job to do.

 

Perched as far on the end of the branch as possible, he could just about reach the window. He struggled to push it upwards, nearly loosing his balance in the process. Once he got the window up he wasted no time in diving straight through the open window and landing in a heap on the floor. He cursed loudly and groaned, resting his back on the wall beneath the window trying to catch his breath, wounded from his literal downfall. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He could have just gone to Boystown and had the money in twenty minutes, but Fiona made him promise he wouldn't do that anymore. She had put a stop to his questionable money making methods after he put a few too many one dollar bills in the squirrel fund.

 

The sounds of movement jolted Ian from his recuperation. There was a silhouette standing in the doorway, an arm outsretched towards Ian- _oh shit he's holding a knife._ After all it took him to get into the house, he had been caught already. He knew he should have just gone to Boystown.Ian tried to form some sort of protest, raising his hands in defense, but the other man spoke first.

 

“Dude...did you really climb in the window?”

 

Ian squinted, trying to get a glimpse of the man holding the knife. “Uh...yeah, sorry.” The man couldn't stop himself from laughing. He lowered his knife slightly. Ian frowned, a little insulted that the man was finding humour in the situation. Someone just broke into his house, why would he be laughing? Sure he was holding a knife, but did he not even feel a little threatened by Ian?

 

“Look, if you're gonna call the cops just do it.” Ian spat out, trying to sound brave.

 

The man stopped laughing. “Why would I call the cops?”

 

Ian was stunned. “Because I broke into your house?” He hated how it sounded like a question. The man leaned up against the door frame, evidently deciding he did not consider Ian a threat. _Damn._

 

“I don't live here dude, I'm just a thief.” The man took a step forward and his face was finally visible in the light from the street outside. _Ooh he's cute._ Ian would definitely like to see him out of the many layers of clothes he was wearing. Plenty of empty bedrooms in this big, quiet house... _Not the time!_ He chastised himself. Jesus, the dude was still holding a knife. _Those eyes though_ _..._

 

His mind brought him back to the moment at hand. He frowned, then his eyes widened as he finally realized the situation he had found himself in. “Are we robbing the same house?”

 

The man laughed again and gazed down at Ian. “Yeah,” he said, “I'm just doing it better.” Their eyes met and _damn_ did that man have nice lips. Ian coughed, trying to break the strange tension between them.

 

“So, uh, what now?” Ian asked. The man shrugged. He put the knife in one of his many pockets and backed away. Ian got up off the floor and was pleased to realise he was significantly taller than the brown haired thief.

 

“I'm going to keep looking for expensive shit. You can keep the fuck out of my way or you'll end up right back out that window.”

 

The man left the room, and though his mind told him he should be staying _away_ from the cute and tiny thug, Ian simply followed him out of the room like an eager puppy.

 

“I know you already claimed this house or whatever, but I just need a couple hundred bucks to pay the rent bill, you can keep the rest.”

 

The man turned around to face Ian again. “Get it somewhere else, we've all got fucking sob stories.”

 

Ian wasn't fazed. “Fine, I'll just take whatever's left.” The dark haired man laughed. “There's gonna be nothing fucking left.” Ian narrowed his eyes at the man's retreating form.

 

“You got a body under all those layers or are you just coats the whole way through?”

 

“You need to fuck off.”

 

\--

 

The stupid motherfucker that fell in the window seemed to also think it was a good idea to follow Mickey as he finished his tour of the house. He kept blabbering on and asking stupid questions and Mickey really did consider sending him flying out of the window, but ultimately decided that if the red head fell two stories to the ground it might damage his face, or more importantly, his dick. Even in dim lighting Mickey could clearly see this boy was one fine specimen of a man.

 

“What's your name?” Why do good looking people always happen to be so stupid?

 

“Not a chance.”

 

“Come on, man, you won't give me money, at least give me your name.”

 

Mickey rooted his way through the wardrobe in the master bedroom. “Why the fuck would I give you my name? Did you bang your fucking head when you fell in the window?”

 

The red head looked at the ground. “I didn't fall,” he mumbled. “It was very graceful”.

 

Mickey snorted. “Graceful my ass.”

 

“If you didn't go through the window, how did you get in? Everywhere else was locked.”

 

“Not the front door.”

 

The red head's mouth dropped open. His eyebrows drew together and he tried to form words. “...are you joking?” Mickey threw his head back in laughter at the man's shocked expression.

 

“Yeah man. Don't think I'm any less of a criminal than you are. I'm breaking and entering too, just not the breaking part. You couldn't have made it any way easy for yourself, could you? Nah, you had to go be spiderman or some shit.” A more serious thought ran through Mickey's head at his next words. “How desperate are you for cash that you would really jump through a window twenty feet up?”

 

The man looked sad at Mickey's last words. “I just need rent money. Maybe a little bit desperate.” Mickey's expression softened. He probably had nearly two grand worth of shit in his bag, he could spare some for the younger man. He definietly deserved it too, he must have pulled off some acrobatic shit to climb the fucking Whomping Willow outside. He sighed. “Fine, Jesus, here.” He reached into his bag and pulled out the money he had found in the girl's room: just over three hundred dollars. Mickey swore it was worth giving away that much money just for the look of relief on the other man's face. He looked like he was about to give a speech on the depth of gratitude he was feeling, but Mickey raised a hand, stopping his words.

 

“Shut the fuck up, I only did it so you would stop following me around.”

 

Somehow his irritated tone went unnoticed.

 

“I'm Ian, by the way.”

 

Mickey made his way back downstairs, Ian following on close behind. “Didn't ask.”

 

“I just thought you might need a name to go along with my phone number.” Mickey nearly tripped over his own feet.

 

“You think you're real funny, don't you?”

 

“I think I'm hilarious.”

 

Mickey shook his head in exasperation. They were standing just inside the front door, but neither of them were making a move to leave. Mickey looked up into Ian's sparkling eyes. He unconsciously licked his lips and did not miss how Ian's eyes darted down. “I have to thank you for the money somehow,” Ian spoke quietly. “Maybe I could buy you a beer sometime...”

 

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you could.”

 

Ian couldn't help the grin that grew on his face. Mickey found himself smiling too, despite himself. Ian was a useless criminal, but he sure was hot.

 

“Mickey.”

 

“What?”

 

Mickey rolled his eyes. “My name, fuckhead.”

 

Ian was about to speak again when a beam of light illuminated his face and the crunching of gravel indicated that a car had pulled in the driveway. Their eyes widened at the same time and their breathing stopped.

 

“Shit.”

 

The panic had begun.

 

“Shit!”

 

A flurry of frantic limbs and muffled curses had them running towards the other end of the house searching for the quickest way out. Mickey tripped over something in the dark and tumbled painfully to the ground with a loud “Fuck!” A crash echoed out of the kitchen and a litany of curses burst out of Ian's mouth. Mickey crawled to his feet rubbing his shoulder angrily, looking around for any kind of way out, or at least a good hiding place. Fuck rich people and their goddamn open floor plans.

 

More crashes could be heard from the kitchen and Ian screamed out “Shit-goddamn-motherfuck!” Mickey gaped at Ian as he stumbled back into the main room. “What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled.

 

“Tried to climb out the window over the sink. Didn't work.” Ian shook his head, slightly dazed. He was sporting quite an impressive cut on his cheek and Mickey had no absolutely no idea how Ian could have done that to himself, but there was no time to question it. They looked around the room one more time, desperately seeking a safe exit. Every window was locked, as was the back door, and the front door was obviously not an option.

 

The two boys realized there was no way out on the ground floor. There was no other choice.

 

They were going out the upstairs window.

 

Ian raced his way up the stairs and Mickey chased after him as fast as he could, ignoring the stinging pain in his knees from where he fell. The sound of voices chatting happily could be heard from outside. One look out the window had Mickey nearly throwing up on his shoes. The long branch of the tree was just too far for him to reach. The boys looked at each other.

 

“No fucking way am I going out there.” Mickey shook his head rapidly.

 

“Do you want to get caught? This is the only way.” Ian lifted the window up and ducked his head through. Mickey grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back in.

 

“Did you not fucking hear me? I cannot physically pull off the circus acrobatics necessary to safely get down there alive.”

 

Ian gaped at him. “Well what do you want me to do? I'm getting out of here. You're cute and all, but I am not going to jail for your ass.”

 

Mickey growled. “Look, motherfucker, you Tarzan your way out of here, then go distract them or something so I can sneak out.” Ian looked like he was about to form a protest but Mickey shoved his head back out the window. “Fucking go!”

 

Ian cursed and, without a second thought, launched himself towards the branch of the tree. And missed.

 

He grabbed at the branch, just about managing to cling on by his fingertips. He dangled precariously from the branch, his feet swinging helplessly beneath him. He could hear Mickey hissing something at him, but he ignored in favour of judging his next descent. He swung himself down to a lower branch, landing better than he did on the previous one. He was able to jump to another branch by the next jump he had reached solid ground and was incredibly thankful for it. Getting down the tree had been a much faster process than going up, he noted for future reference.

 

He looked up at the open window where Mickey was looking down at him anxiously. Ian raised his arm and gave Mickey a thumbs up. Mickey gave him the fnger in return. Ian grinned and ran (limped) to the back of the house. He could see the couple moving about in the trashed kitchen. A large rock caught his eye and he grinned. He launched the stone through a window near the back door and hoped that it would be enough to distract them so Mickey could make his escape. Ian did feel back for the family: not only had their house been robbed and messed,but now there were rocks being thrown and windows smashed right in front of them. Ian felt incredibly guilty, but it was too late now.

 

He sneakily made his way back to the front of the house as Mickey crept out the front door. Together they sprinted off down the street cursing giggling, slipping on the icy road and pushing and grabbing each other. Their laughter echoed out into the night as they rode the high of their criminal activity and miraculous getaway.

 

They finally stopped running once they were a few streets away. They moved into a dark alley and leaned up against the wall, trying to catch their breath. Ian caught Mickey's eye and grinned, both of them laughing hysterically once more. Ian ran a hand through his hair and breathed cold air deep into his burning lungs. Mickey moved closer to him, eyeing him up and down.

 

“This was kinda fun, Firecrotch.” He was smirking cheekily, the corner of his mouth tilting up.

 

“Sure was.” Ian pushed himself off the wall and started walking towards Mickey forcing him to moved backwards to the opposite side of the alley. “I would say we should do this again sometime, but maybe our second date should be something slightly more legal.”

 

Mickey's eyebrows jumped upwards. “You think this is a date?”

 

Ian smirked. Mickey's back thudded into the wall behind him and Ian kept stepping forward, trapping him in place. “Kinda romantic, don't you think? Risking our freedom for each other and all.”

 

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Firecrotch, you got a place we can go or not?”

 

Ian grinned slyly, his chest pressed flat against Mickey's. “Yeah, thanks to the money you gave me I can pay the rent, so I guess it's only fair you get to see the shithole I climbed in a window for.”

 

And off they went, two kind boys who tried their best to be criminals. Doing what they had to do to survive this bitterly cold Chicago winter. Their footprints were filled in by the soft flutters of snow that swam around them, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

 

\--

 

Mickey robbed several more houses over the next year, sometimes taking Ian with him. These situations usually ended disastrously, but Mickey couldn't say that getting a blowjob when the owners of the house they were in could return at any minute wasn't exciting. It was their version of “date night”.

 

They didn't have much, but it was enough for them. Playing videos games on the couch, the occasional illegal adventure, what more could they want?

 

And you know what they say: the couple that steal together, stay together.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this ended up being way longer than I expected it to be. I also did not intend to make a window the main character, but what can you do? Anyway, hope you liked it, let me know what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> Tumblr: fade-away-tonight


End file.
